Author's Note

What's this? Another chapter from me before 2023? Madness!

Anyhow, I'm sure that you'll notice a few characters and plot threads left dangling with the Outsiders and Bane. Those will become more clear once my apprentice starts publishing the work they've been working on.

~~Your move now,~~ ~~my Apprentice...~~

Chapter 21: The Train Job

Green Pastures, Cloak’s Front Porch, Equestria
50 Years After the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Kingfisher frowned heavily as he watched the group gather in front of Cloak’s front porch. After last night, he’d found himself unable to look anypony in the eyes, especially not Cloak. Despite the older stallion telling him that he didn’t have to apologize, Kingfisher found himself unable to sleep, unable to focus on classes, and unable to take fifty steps over to the porch where the story was doubtlessly continuing.

“Looking kinda glum, kid,” commented an unfamiliar voice. “Somebody piss on your pillow or something?”

An orange pegasus frowned at Kingfisher, his one good eye showing concern, the other eye concealed by a black patch that failed valiantly to hide the jagged white scar that snaked down to his upper lip. His black and grey mane was liberally streaked with silver, and beneath his worn black traveling cloak Kingfisher could see a network of scars mapped across his body. Next to him stood an earth pony mare in a similar traveling cloak in grey, her long silver mane with its few remaining blonde streaks peeking from beneath the hood in well-kept ringlets.

“No, I just- …Have you ever said something that you regretted to somepony, even though you were so sure you were right in the moment, that you couldn’t even face them later because there weren’t enough ways to apologize?” asked Kingfisher.

The stallion gave a low whistle. “I’ve said some pretty boneheaded things in my time, but that must’ve been one hell of a something you said to think there was no way to apologize,” frowned the stranger. “Care to talk about it with an unbiased set of ears, half-deaf may they be?”

“Well… do you know about the Shadowbolts?” asked Kingfisher.

“I know a fair bit, I’d say,” replied the stranger as he sat down next to Kingfisher. “How do they fit in with your woes?”

And so, after hours of silence, Kingfisher explained everything to the stranger. The words tumbled from his mouth as he told the stranger about Cloak, his stories, the dark secret the Rat Pack had concealed, and the confrontation the night before. As he repeated the words that Cloak told him the night before, a choked sob finally ceased further explanation.

“Don’t feel so down, kid,” replied the stranger with a grin. “Gods know I’ve said worse to that asshat over the years, and I’m still invited over Hearths-Warming dinners.”

“Wait, you know Mr. Broadcloth?!” exclaimed Kingfisher.

“Husband of mine, please stop toying with the colt and bring him back to the rest of the group,” sighed the mare next to the stranger as she pulled down her hood. A few bionic implant mounts gleamed metallic silver in the sunlight, the one just above her eye somehow adding to her glare. The stranger raised his hooves in mock surrender, laughing gently.

“Oh come on, Dee,” chuckled the stranger. “I can’t let Cloak have all the fun, can I? You know that bastard loved every minute of sharing those stories.”

“Perhaps, but at this point we’re holding up the story, which is rude to the other guests, since I know you don’t care about wasting the ‘old bastard’s’ time,” replied Dee as Cold Snap finally wandered over.

“Hey ‘Fisher,” greeted Cold Snap. “Did Uncle Hawk and Aunt Dee help you feel better?”

“Wait, Uncle Hawk?!?!” exclaimed Kingfisher, glancing at the stranger in shock.

“And Aunt Dee,” added Cold Snap helpfully.

“Thank you, Nephew,” nodded Dee-Seven. “You’ve gotten taller.”

“Technically, it would be ‘Great Uncle Hawk and Great Aunt Dee’, but that’s a mouthful and I hate the term ‘Grunkle’,” smirked Hawk. “Now, I know you’re probably still scared to face the music, but I can tell you for a fact that he holds absolutely no grudge toward you for what you said. If he does, I’ll kick his ass. Fair enough?”

“...Yeah, fair enough,” murmured Kingfisher in a daze as he stumbled his way back to the porch.

“Glad you finally joined us, ‘Fisher…” smiled Cloak easily.

Kingfisher tried to find the words, but no sound left him. His face burned with shame as apologies that raced around his head died on his tongue before they had a chance to live. He trusted Hawk on his word, given everything he’d heard about the stallion up to this point, but still, it all seemed inadequate to what he’d said.

“Kingfisher…” began Cloak gently.

The colt looked up.

“I’m not angry with you,” reassured the old Shadowbolt with an easy smile. “Honestly, I’m more annoyed at this old quack for gate-crashing without so much as a postcard!”

“Piss off, ya windbag!” smirked Hawk. “It’s your fault for talking shit about us all like I wouldn’t find out!”

“Can we continue now?” grumbled Flare Glider. “We’ve been waiting for an hour!”

“Well, after Rat buried the truth, we really didn’t see much of a change in Nightshade,” replied Cloak. “We were allowed to take missions again, but our ‘shore leave’ privileges were still revoked. It kept us content, but Rat was frustrated with Nightshade. If it wasn’t for the War starting, the Pack might have considered deserting entirely.”

“The Ponyville Tornado?” asked Merida Streak. “But I thought only Descent, Starry Skies, and Nightshade were involved in that!”

“They were the only Shadowbolts involved in that,” smirked Cloak ruefully. “And we were away in Thestral Lands at the time.”

“Then what was the actual start of the war?”

“The Appleloosan Express Disaster…” replied Cloak grimly. “The first time we purposely took innocent lives…”

The Cirrus, Mess Hall, Equestria
14th of Cold Moon, 1001
Seven Months Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“And so I says to him ‘That’s no Moon: That’s Sunbutt’s Little Sister!’” joked Impulse as Crescent rolled her eyes at her teammate’s antics.

“Seriously, it’s not that funny,” sighed Crescent as Cloak fell off the bench laughing and taking his glass of lemonade with him. “And of course you would turn the prospect of never-ending darkness into a cheap joke.”

“Hey, laugh to keep from crying, babe,” smirked Impulse. “But seriously, who would have guessed the Mare in the Moon conspiracy theorists were right all along?”

“I did!” chimed in Hoxton.

“Of course you did…” sighed Hawk. “Forty to one odds, on that. Frigging bats have been screaming about it for years, though.”

“The thestrals are beside themselves with joy at the return of Princess Luna, for sure,” commented Arclight.

“You could even say they’re… over the moon?” grinned Cloak, causing Impulse to inhale his cola.

“Arc… Tell me that fratricide is a bad idea…” sighed Dagger.

“Fratricide is a bad idea, dear…” smiled Arclight as he kissed Dagger on the forehead.

“Admit it: You’d miss me if I was gone!” cackled Cloak before glancing at the latest addition to the table. “So, whaddya think, Academy Escapee? Hell of a lot more fun than the Blunderdolts, right?”

“...Well, certainly less… stiff than I was expecting?” mused Lightning Dust.

“To be fair, Descent and Starry Skies are not the best representatives of what the rest of the Shadowbolts are like, dear...” chuckled Facade, causing Lightning Dust to blush lightly.

“The Ice Cube on Legs and the Crown Princess of Bitches are certainly not representative samples for us, darling, and the less said about Nightshade, the better…” purred Cheshire from Lightning’s other side, causing the unfortunate mare to blush even harder.

“The Captain has become a touch more unstable as of late, if you ask me,” frowned Shade.

“Well, the Code says ‘The Strongest Leads’, not ‘The Sanest Leads’...” countered Matchstick.

“That doesn’t sound… safe?” frowned Lightning Dust.

“If you don’t like it, you can speak up and challenge the Captain,” explained Inque. “Just be sure you can back it up.”

“What do you mean ‘back it up’?” asked Lightning Dust with a frown.

“You fight Nightshade,” replied Rat simply.

“Fight the Captain?!” exclaimed Dust. “Like, what? Hoof to hoof, to the death or something?”

“Sometimes,” shrugged Rat. “Depends on how merciful the current Captain is.”

“Which Nightshade really isn’t,” chuckled Matchstick.

“So, yes, to the death,” remarked Rat, smirking at the dumbfounded look in Lightning Dust’s eyes.

“We keep to the Code, Dropout,” barked a familiar voice.

“Starry, I presume your last mission was productive?” nodded Rat as Dust had a conniption fit at how her foul-mouthed mentor snuck up on her.

“Captain wants to speak with you,” barked Starry with a frown before addressing Lightning Dust. “Move your ass, Dropout. We got a new job coming up, and I want you ready.”

“Oh? And what does our illustrious leader want with me now?”

“New job. And you won’t like it…”

“...You can’t be serious,” deadpanned Rat.

“Deathly serious, Rat,” smiled Nightshade, sweet as poisoned honey. “You are to kill the six targets on the 11:35 Appleloosa to Ponyville Express, Sleeper Car Fourteen, and you’re to make it look like an accident. Those are the client’s stipulations. You have to derail the train.”

“The Appleloosan Express seats 187 passengers at one time, and runs a crew of eight,” growled Rat. “189 souls need to be sent into the abyss for the sake of silencing six targets? Who are they?”

“Classified, but I assure you that such measures are quite necessary,” smirked Nightshade as she sliced into her apple with a knife. “You might not survive a close encounter.”

“Why?” demanded Rat. “What could they possibly do-”

“Turn you to stone in an instant?” smirked Nightshade. “And that’s just one possibility, but the rest are very classified. Are you in?”

Rat didn’t say a word, instead scooting away from the desk and walking to the door. Nightshade let out an exaggerated sigh.

“As you wish,” replied Nightshade as she straightened the contract dossier. “It’s a shame about Ponyville, though…”

Rat froze in place, hoof literally on the doorknob as his veins flooded with ice. He didn’t say a word as he turned to look at Nightshade, his glare demanding explanation.

“Well, the next opportunity to kill the targets would be in Ponyville, and only a storm unlike any seen before would be able to kill them,” explained Nightshade with a careless shrug. “Naturally, since they would be more ‘spread out’, so to speak, we’ll need to wipe out the entire town. Pity about Tigress. And dear old Prose-”

“Fine,” snarled Rat. “But we need R&R. Proper R&R. Not just time off aboard the Cirrus.”

“Of course,” smiled Nightshade. “Nys’strova is lovely this time of year. I’ll move you to the top of the list. Next rotation is in two months.”

“...Fine…” replied Rat stiffly, standing and turning to leave when a vindictive thought slipped out before he could stop himself. “It’s treatment like this that drives me to become what you fear me to be, no matter how much I’m not…”

“Beg pardon, Rat?” simpered Nightshade mockingly, seizing on the fact that she struck a nerve.

“Do you really think that I’d betray you in a heartbeat at the first sign of weakness?” snapped Rat, frustration boiling over. “Do you really believe that Descent, your closest friend and ally, would teach his ‘whelp’ to take advantage of you in a heartbeat?”

Nightshade’s smile turned to glass in an instant. “I beg pardon?” asked Nightshade blankly, even as a glimmer of fear and panic danced in her eyes.

“The Shadowbolts are my Family, same as you if what Descent has told me is true, and I won’t betray that simply for the sake of ambition, especially not a member of the crew who found me,” replied Rat. “Ask Hoxton if you still doubt me.”

“I see…” smiled Nightshade sweetly, even as fear still lurked behind her eyes. “I appreciate your loyalty, Rat. I’m sure that after this mission we’ll need not see it strained any further, no?”

“After this mission? …No, I would say not,” replied Rat carefully. “However, I would appreciate it if you would utilize my skills in the moment you need them. All you need to do is ask.”

“I will keep that in mind…” simpered Nightshade, even as her posture subtly relaxed. “It’s a shame that you’re so much more useful unbroken… I think I might have enjoyed the task…”

“I’m sure you would have,” nodded Rat as he took his leave.

Rat needed to find Patch as soon as possible. If he had to derail a train and put nearly two hundred lives at risk to save five times as many, then so be it. However, Rat would be damned if he didn’t try to save as many of the other passengers as he could. To pull it off, Rat needed Patch to put a long-forgotten plan into effect.

Before he could say a word, a groggy yellow shape lurched past him, mumbling incoherently.

“Oh fuck, this isn’t good…” muttered Rat.

Rat watched in fascination and apprehension as Patch stumbled bleary-eyed into Hoxton’s workshop. Hoxton didn’t look up from the Hummingbird that he was repairing. Patch stood in silence, rubbing her eyes, before recognizing where she stood.

“Oh!” slurred Patch. “Hoxy!”

“Hrm?!’ grunted Hoxton in surprise, finally looking up.

“Hoxy!” exclaimed Patch, dashing forward and capturing the inventor in a tight hug.

“P-p-p-p-PATCH!?” stuttered Hoxton, standing stiffly. “What are you doing?! I don’t understand!”

“Doing?’ murmured Patch, dazed, before burying her face back into Hoxton’s shoulder. “Oh, who cares? You’re comfy...”

“Guh?!” articulated Hoxton, sweating profusely.

“Hey, Hoxy,” giggled Patch. “Why don’t you call me ‘Patches’? I really liked it when you did. It made me feel all warm…”

“Patch, what the heck is going on?!” exclaimed Hoxton. “I don’t understand what’s going on here at all!”

“Oh, Hoxy, you ol’ meanie,” pouted Patch, gently running a hoof on Hoxton’s shoulder in small circles. “What do I have to do to get you to call me ‘Patches’ again?”

“Pa- I mean, uh, Patches!” fumbled Hoxton. “Hold on! Let me call Arclight or another medic down here! You aren’t well right now!”

“Medic?” murmured Patch, looking up at him curiously. “Don’ need a medic… Need you…” She then buried her face back in his chest, rubbing her cheek against him affectionately.

Rat gritted his teeth, unsure of whether to laugh at the present situation or flinch at the oncoming doom. Since the sabotage incident, it seemed plain as day to Rat that Hoxton had become enamored with his fiery neighbor. When the two of them shouted back and forth with each other now, Hoxton’s quips seemed to take on a playful tone, almost affectionate. However, whether such affection was mutual was nearly impossible to say, given Patch’s mercurial temperament.

Rat winced as the sound of steel against steel shattered the moment like ice as a single screwdriver clattered off of the desk Rat had perched next to onto the bulkhead below. Patch blinked, freezing mid-nuzzle but for her eyes darting around to reestablish her location. With a shriek that could bend metal, she shoved Hoxton away from her and scooped up a nearby wrench. The change in the armorer’s mood would’ve given whiplash to those less acquainted with her. However, Hoxton was not one of those ponies, so he was able to react in time to shield himself from Patch’s furious attack.

“MY HOOVES WERE AT MY SIDES THE WHOLE TIME!” yelped Hoxton as he fell backward.

Patch continued swinging wildly at him, screaming insults about his parentage, his simultaneously small and nonexistent stallionhood, and his lack of intelligence. “You rotten, perverted old EGG!!!” With one final blow, she hurled the wrench at the hummingbird he’d been working on and stormed out of the workshop, slamming the door closed behind her.

“...besides, I’d never do something that would hurt you,” murmured Hoxton. “...no matter what I feel…”

Rat kept to his hiding spot for a count of ten before swooping over to Patch’s side of the Pit and rushing to open the door. It was his fault that the moment broke, so the least he could do is help with the cleanup.

“Patch, are you alright?” asked Rat, emphasizing the concern in his voice. “What just happened?”

“That- that- perverted old goat tried to get his hooves on me!” hissed Patch.

“Are you sure about that?” asked Rat, doing his best to feign ignorance of the incident. “I mean, he’d be signing his own death warrant a dozen different ways if he was, and I don’t think he’s suicidal.”

“He had to have!” protested Patch. “Otherwise, it means that I- I- oh gods above…” She slammed her head down on her desk, blushing brightly as she tried to hide her face in her hooves.

“Patch, what’s wrong?” asked Rat gently, placing a hoof on her shoulder. “Why are you so upset about this?”

Patch groaned again, keeping her face pressed into the desktop and grumbled, “Just… Stupid… No. I did not… He had to have…”

“‘Had to have’ what, Patch?” pressed Rat. “Disregard all sense of self-preservation to grope a mare who could put his ass in the ground faster than you can say ‘Ouch’? Because that’s what you’re implying. And if that’s the case, and you aren’t going to do anything about it, then there’s a whole line of ponies ready to do it for you, so if you’ll excuse me-”

“Rat… Wait…” protested Patch, finally prying her head up from her work top, the remains of her blush still staining her cheeks bright pink. “Don’t… Don’t kill him…”

“But, according to you, he-” began Rat, continuing to keep up the act.

“I need him around so I don’t go completely stir-crazy while you’re out on a mission, okay?!” snapped Patch, scowling. “That’s all there is to it!”

Rat smiled gently before affectionately ruffling Patch’s mane even as she continued to glower at him.

“As you wish, sister,” chuckled Rat. “Well, now that I have you here, I’ve got a tall favor to ask you. How quickly can you implement the Blunderdolt Contingency?”

“I made them as soon as you asked,” frowned Patch in confusion. “Why do you need that, though?”

“Well, you probably won’t like it…”

“That depends… Are you telling me to take out the darts I put in Hawk’s suit so it’s less form-fitting?”

“Worse than that, I’m afraid…” hedged Rat, hoping to not go into more detail.

“Well it can’t be that bad… nothing’s worse than having my fun at Hawk’s expense ruined.”

“What about civilian casualties?”

“Oh…” The playful manner drained dramatically out of the armorer’s demeanor. “Oh.”

“Yeah…” sighed Rat. “Thing is, if I don’t do this, then an entire town is going to be wiped off the map, Patches. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I’m guessing a surgical strike isn’t an option?”

“Patches, someone’s hired us to kill the Elements…” whispered Rat.

“Mmm… Yeah… tackling that head-on wouldn’t end well for anyone…”

“....You’re… Taking this rather well…” frowned Rat. “I figured there’d be a little more ‘What the Fuck, Rat?’ than this…”

“Oh no mistake… I don’t like this idea. Not by any stretch. But I’m also rather more concerned about your survival. The Elements had bearers before… There’ll probably be new ones in the future. You can’t destroy things like that… Only the ponies who happen to wield them at the time.”

“Maybe, but something does seem a little bit off about the whole thing,” mused Rat. “Almost as if there’s something else at play here.”

“Powerful folk make enemies all the time,” shrugged Patch. “It’s a day that ends in y around here when it happens.”

“True enough,” chuckled Rat. “I still can’t believe the look on Cloak’s face when Nightmare frigging Moon suddenly appears in the Mess Hall and demands that he take her to our leader… Only time he’s ever dropped the filling in his sandwich.”

“I had Hoxton save that image…” Patch recalled with a fond smile of reminiscence.

“...Do you think Razor ever had doubts like this?” asked Rat suddenly. “Back during the war?”

“Probably… Not to mention even afterwards… I know… Well… Ancient history for another time…but remind me later to tell you about the mess he landed in that resulted in him meeting me…”

“Wasn’t that during the Triad Wars in Vietmane?” frowned Rat before his brain caught up. “Wait, are you saying-”

“We’re what caused the Triad Wars…” Patch nodded, smiling fondly again at the memory. “I thought he was madder than a Grass Moon hare... Especially when we had to take a shortcut through the Undercity…”

“Well… That puts him in a new light…” chuckled Rat. “Still, we’ll end up taking innocent lives with this mission directly, but I’m going to keep a lid on them as much as possible.”

“Direct or indirect doesn’t matter, Rat… It never has for those like us. The idea that our actions caused someone to die? It doesn’t sit well with me, it never has. I do not envy you, gēge.”

“I’ll be alright, mèimei.” sighed Rat with a smile. “If I can save an entire town? There’s no other choice to make, and I’ll have to live with it. Well, that… and possibly one other thing…”

“And what is this other thing?”

“We need to go to Appleloosa…” grinned Rat ruefully. “Which should be fine as long as Cloak doesn’t-”

“...And I absolutely did…” grinned Cloak unrepentantly.

La Rosa Falina, Appleloosa, Equestria
14th of Cold Moon, 1001
Seven Months Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“I fucking hate you, Cloak…” grumbled Bane.

“What? This is the only place that’s open. Besides, what’s wrong with it?” argued Cloak.

“It’s the Rosa Falina, where Bane met-” explained Dagger.

“Yes, now hush and let me sulk in my ale in peace,” grunted Bane.

“Well…. whadaya know…” chuckled a gruff voice. “If it isn’t the Cloud of Sunshine himself! How’s it been, Charon, old buddy!”

“Hello, Dex…” sighed Bane as his brow seemed to twitch slightly. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“It’s been a right dog’s age, Charon, and that is a damn shame!” chuckled Dex as he quickly mixed up a cocktail. “Five years, hasn’t it? Or was that six? I can’t remember.”

“Long enough, I’d say,” chuckled Bane as he accepted the drink, his mood taking an upturn. “...Glad to see this place...hasn’t changed.”

“Not much since you were last here, no,” laughed Dex as he made drinks for the rest of the group. “A few tables and chairs finally broke, but we’ve practically been frozen in time since you were last here.”

“...How wonderful…” smiled Bane bitterly. “So, how have you guys kept up on acts in the past year, Dex?”

“Honestly, been pretty thin on the ground, to be honest,” grumbled Dex. “No one has really had that much of a shine since Marina took off on her stratospheric rise to fame.”

“Wait, since who did what now?” asked Cloak, glancing between the bartender and the ex-Infiltrator.

“Since-” started Dex before Dagger interrupted.

“Shhh, no, let him put the pieces together on his own,” smirked Dagger.

“It is a hell of a lot funnier that way,” chuckled Hawk.

“OH! OH THIS IS THAT PLACE!” realized Cloak. “Now I get why you’re pissier than Dagger during ‘that time’...”

“Broadcloth…”

“Oh c’mon, Charon,” chuckled Hawk. “It’s not like she’s gonna-”

“Alright, fillies and gentlecolts and everyone in between!” greeted a big, jovial voice as an older earth-pony couple walked out on stage with bright smiles. “Welcome, yes, welcome to La Rosa Falina! As you know, we promise entertainment with every visit, but tonight, we have something very special planned.”

“This upcoming act is a very dear friend,” the mare at his side spoke. “To us, and to all of you. You may remember her as a simple mare with nothing but a guitar, a notebook, and a heart bigger than the oceans with dreams that soared higher than the sky. Well, said simple mare went off to do great things after her time in La Rosa Falina… but that does not mean she has forgotten about us.”

“Fillies and gentlecolts, hailing from the tropics of Cubray, the Siren of the Sea in flesh, please, give a very warm welcome back to-”

“...Marina…” sighed Bane, setting his head on the table.

“And that’s right where I need to stop you, old buddy,” interrupted Hawk.

“What?!” screeched Flare Glider. “You’re stopping the story there?! Why?!”

“Yes, that would be nice to know, ‘old buddy’,” frowned Cloak. “You are throwing off my groove, there…”

“How ‘bout because Marina would be heartbroken if you told this story without her?” smirked Hawk smugly.

“...Fine, you win this round…” grumbled Cloak.

“Missed you too, asshat,” smirked Hawk.

“Wait… does this mean we’ll be visited by Marina Caballo?!?!” shrieked Flare Glider.

“Oh, lovely, now you set them off by teasing…” sighed Cloak.

“Who said I was teasing?” chuckled Hawk. “Anyway, skip to the relevant part, ya windbag…”

“...Fine…” frowned Cloak, before suddenly acquiring a wicked grin. “...So, let’s go ahead and jump forward to the most relevant part of this story… Shall we, Hawk?”

“Wait, what?” asked the one-eyed Shadowbolt.

Appleachian Mountains, Appleloosa, Equestria
15th of Cold Moon, 1001
Seven Months Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

"Fuck that fucking asshole, all nice and warm in his mare and their bed while we're freezing our junk off..." cursed Hawk as he waddled his way through the snow drift.

“....Really? That’s the part where you’re going to start back in?”

“Who’s telling the story again?”

“...You’re a punk…”

“Missed you too, hat-ass.”

“Quit your whining, ya tosser,” piped up Clover. “Just because you’ve got the romantic sense of seasnail, that doesn’t mean you have to spoil it for the rest of us. I think it’s quite lovely, and I wish somepony would look at me like the two of them were looking at each other.”

“Oh, if only…” sighed Phantasm.

“We should be focusing on the job,” frowned Dagger.

“Actually, I’d rather not focus on it too much this time around, Dagger…” sighed Rat. “I’m sure you understand.”

“...To be honest, I do agree, Boss,” replied Dagger. “Just figured somepony had to stay professional.”

“Fair enough,” replied Rat with a nod. “We’ll run the plan one more time, and then it’s back to light conversations.”

“We set the charges to start the first avalanche and block the tracks ahead of the train,” explained Clover. “That’ll cause them to hit the breaks and stop within the specified zone.”

“From there, we trigger the second avalanche to wipe out the back cars of the train, including Sleeper Car Fourteen,” continued Dagger.

“Estimated total casualties?” sighed Rat.

“The rear three cars will be affected by the second avalanche for sure, but it could possibly be as many as five cars,” explained Arclight. “Estimated maximum casualty count is right at around fifty-five, if all cars are full…”

“They are,” added Hawk. “I checked with the station manager before we set out, and the 11:35 was overbooked.”

“Thankfully, emergency decouplers were made standard after the Canterra Loop string-lining disaster of ‘78 killed everyone aboard and wiped out half the town of Stonefork in the valley below, so no chance of pulling the whole train with it,” advised Clover.

“Fifty-five for a thousand lives…” repeated Rat. “...No, we’ve no other option. It’ll have to work. We’ll use the Blunderdolt Contingency to keep that count down.”

“Contact! The Express is on its way down the track! Five minutes to the first mark!”

The train thundered along, echoing off the mountainside as it came into view. Clover clicked the detonator, gritting her teeth. A flash of pink glowed in the drifts for a moment, but no detonation. Clover clicked the detonator again. No effect. The pink glow grew in size.

“Clover, what-” asked Rat.

“I don’t know! I’ve clicked it twice-”

“Whaddya mean ‘you don’t know’! You’re the engineer” hissed Hawk.

“It means I don’t bloody know, ya feckin’ gobshite-”

“Guys…” interjected Cloak.

Along the mountain, black clouds materialized from the snow, causing the area to darken suddenly as though Celestia herself had seen fit to cause an eclipse. A large drift of snow suddenly dropped down the mountain, as though pushed by a giant foal’s hoof, and landed on the tracks. The Appleloosan Express slammed into the drift, burying itself three cars deep into the freshly formed drift, screaming as steam billowed from the emergency release.

Moments later, the black smoke pushed a second avalanche onto the rear two cars of the train, pulling both cars off the tracks and down the side of the mountain. Rat could have sworn that a pair of glowing white eyes turned to regard him within that smoke, causing his skin to crawl in revulsion. And, just as suddenly as the eldritch horror had appeared, the smoke dissipated, leaving no trace save for the buried train and the derailed cars. None of the Pack spoke for a long moment, attempting to process the scene before them.

“What…” asked Cloak in shock. “What the actual hell was that?!”

“Interference,” answered Dagger as the shock slowly subsided. “Boss, you saw the-”

“Yeah, I saw it,” confirmed Rat. “Clover, what happened with the bombs? The avalanche should have been much larger than that, right?”

“At least twice as large, and thirty seconds sooner,” confirmed Clover, glancing at the detonator controls. “Instrument panel shows both bombs are still live and ready to detonate, but I’m clicking the detonator with no success. That pink flash must have fried the ignition circuits on the bombs.”

“Nightshade didn’t trust us,” concluded Hawk. “What was the flipping point? Sending us out here to do a job and she does it herself like it was no big deal?”

“No time to think about that now,” argued Rat. “The train barrelled into that snow pile from the first avalanche, and they’re stuck inside that drift up to the first three cars. Arc, how long do they have?”

“At that speed? At least some cars would have buckled, even with the powdery consistency of the snow, so anyone left alive from the initial crash that hasn’t been buried from snow pouring in will be looking at fatal hypothermia within the hour.”

“Then we need to move now,” replied Rat, pulling on his Wonderbolt Reserve uniform. “Get your disguises on and ready the First Aid kits. Blunderdolt Contingency is in effect. Cloak, Hawk, check the intact cars and tell the survivors to keep them sealed for as long as they can and bundle up since we don’t have nearly enough survival blankets for everyone. Everyone else I want on that first snow drift digging for survivors. Arc, be ready to triage as quickly as you can. Clover, find an emergency radio from the train and call this in. We’ll need to get the Wonderbolts involved with the rest of the train.”

“Right on it, Boss,” nodded Cloak, before freezing. “Wait, what was that about the Blunderdolts?”

The Cirrus, Patch’s Workshop, Equestria
17th of Cold Moon, 1001
Seven Months Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“So?” prompted Patch as Rat entered her domain, the curtain to her sewing area swinging as she passed through it to greet him. “The Contingency work?”

“Like a charm, Patches,” smiled Rat fondly. “Third Captain Fire Streak didn’t even give us a second glance. The Reserves are completely interchangeable and absolutely disposable to the so-called Elites.

Patch snorted derisively. “Blunderdolts indeed… Like anyone could be a reservist… Not picky at all.”

“One of them made me a bit nervous, and we may need to be careful dealing with that one in particular, but she looked to be older, so she’ll be drummed out soon enough,” commented Rat as he cracked open a bottle of cider and passed it to Patch. “Misty Fly, I think? She made a point of thanking each of us for ‘our diligence and fast response to the crisis’.”

Patch snorted again, taking the bottle with a nod of gratitude. “Just proves she’s nothing to worry about either. Hox says she’s stone deaf.”

“Oh?” smirked Rat. “Does he now? I didn’t think that you and the ‘old goat’ were on speaking terms at the moment…”

Patch scowled sourly at Rat. “Before, stupid egg... When I was doing the research to make the Contingency suits. Had information pulled up on the current blowhards-in-blue.”

“Ah, I see,” mused Rat, despite not believing a word of Patch’s excuse. “Well, if you need me to have a word with Hox about his dumbassery, let me know.”

“And I already told you not to,” snapped Patch and irritably downed the rest of her cider. “If anyone’s gonna have words with that meat-sack, it’s me so butt out.”

“Well, I’m here if you change your mind, sister dearest,” chuckled Rat as he offered another cider to Patch.

“I need him around anyways because now you and the others are off on pleasure-bent and I’m stuck here, and how else am I going to amuse myself if not by threatening my neighbor’s life?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” smirked Rat. “Maybe by actually talking to your neighbor?”

“Threatening his life counts as ‘talking’,” countered Patch, almost petulant now.

“True, but there’s only so many ways you can threaten a stallion before it becomes stale,” smirked Rat. “Eventually, you’ll need to have a fresh topic to discuss.”

“Oh there are plenty of variations of threats… his life, his annoying little toys… using up his supplies…”

“I’VE CHANGED THE LOCKS SINCE THEN, SO GOOD LUCK WITH THAT!” shouted Hox from his side of the Pit.

“WHO NEEDS LOCKS WHEN I STILL HAVE YOUR MICROFORGE?!” returned Patch, and though she’d deny it with her last breath probably, Rat could see the corner of her mouth twitching upwards.

“AND MELT THE CABINETS AND THEIR CONTENTS BEFORE THE LOCKS?!” shot back Hox. “NOT EVEN YOU’RE THAT WASTEFUL!”

“STILL COUNTS AS USING YOUR SUPPLIES!!!”

“NOT IF I HIDE THEM SOMEWHERE ELSE!”

“Seriously, if this keeps up, the two of you will start a betting pool, and you don’t want to give Hawk that satisfaction, right?” smirked Rat.

Patch paused, mid-inhale to continue the volley, scowled, then sighed, letting the breath out. “Eh… he’s lost his touch with the banter anyways…” she shrugged, turning to her workbench. “Need anything special for your trip, Rat?”

“...Honestly? I just needed to take my mind off the eighteen lives we snuffed out just to kill those six targets,” sighed Rat. “But at least Ponyville is safe…”

“Um… Rat?” Patch hesitated before pulling out a newspaper and holding it up for him to see the very large headline.

Rat glanced down at the latest copy of The Baltimare Herald, and felt his gut tighten into a knot at the headline “Perilous Journey on the Slopes! Elements Barely Survive Appleloosan Express Disaster!”

“...Shit,” swore Rat.

To Be Continued...